The Hogwarts Insider
by TheyCallMeVanGogh
Summary: Mickey is quite the nobody- or so she seems. She has a dream of becoming a journalist, so she starts a newspaper called the Hogwarts Insider and creates the identity "Tabitha Sparks". But when ratings drop, to what extent will she go to raise them again? Will she successfully become close to James Potter to unlock his secrets and expose them? Or will her identity be exposed?
1. Chapter 1

I'm currently inside of a pot. It's a giant, at least four foot tall flower pot around the back of Greenhouse One. And I do this sort of thing regularly. Why?

Well, I'm the editor of the Hogwarts Insider. So naturally I tend to hide in weird things to get the scoop on the latest scandals. Today's just so happens to be Marissa WIlliams and Daniel Pollijan. I know for a fact that Marissa began dating Joseph Garrison last week… So why exactly is she making out with Daniel behind Greenhouse One? Who knows? Oh wait, that's what I have to find out.

I tap my wand over my head, muttering a few glamour charms. Now my hair was the traditional white-blonde, which I immediately twisted back into a high ponytail. My thin lips became plump and pouty, and my long nose small and slim. I lengthened my eyelashes, raised my cheekbones, and basically became the Barbie-like reporter that everyone assumed was the editor of the insider. Ha.

Slipping on my tortoiseshell glasses, I stood abruptly out of the pot, signaling Tyler, who was hidden behind a stack of fertilizer to join me.

"Hello, Marissa Williams, correct? I'm Tabitha Sparks, lead reporter and editor of the Hogwarts Insider. It's a pleasure to meet you," I began, holding out my hand for her to shake. When she just stared at me slack-jawed, arms still around the neck of an extremely confused looking Daniel. Retracting my hand and instead fishing a long, swan feather quill out of my shoulder bag along with a small notepad, I began firing questions as Tyler snapped a few more pictures of the couple.

"Are you or are you not currently in a relationship with the respectable Joseph Garrison?"

"Yes but-" Marissa tried.

"And you are a willing participant in the activity you were partaking in about two minutes ago?" I say, checking my watch to be sure of the time.

"I'll say," Daniel muttered, answering the question for her. She shot him a disgusted look before trying to defend her actions.

"You see… Tabitha… I had recently found out the Joseph had cheated on me with Penelope Thomas! So he deserved this!"

"Is that so? I'll certainly check up on that. Thanks for the tip!" I chirp.

"Wait, so you're not going to print that, right?"

I chuckle at the girl and Tyler, disguised as well of course, lets out a bark of laughter from his position behind me. "Are you joking, Marissa? This is pure gold! And although I'm extremely sorry about the impending doom of your relationship with Joseph, I will have to print this. I mean, how else do you suppose I make money around this wretched school? Come on, Alexander," I say, the last part to Alexander, also known as Tyler.

And with that, we throw our invisibility cloaks over us and walk back towards the school. Headquarters, to be exact

"So Ty, get any good shots?" I ask pleasantly.

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I did, Mickey, I'm a brilliant photographer, even if my skills are being put to waste working for your awful gossip rag."

"Oi! It's an amazing gossip rag!"

"Whatever, even you admit that its a rag."

"True, true," I mutter. "Hey, what do you think of 'The Ministry Insider'?"

Tyler released another bark of laughter. "'The Ministry Insider', Mickey? You honestly don't have any new ideas? Adults are not going to read trash like that. I think even the students of Hogwarts are getting sick of your petty stories."

I nodded, lost in thought about my plans after Hogwarts, then realized what he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Face it, Mickey. Sales are going down. We need to do something to spice it up soon. We've been writing this stuff for four years now. I think it's time we make a change."

"Tyler, you can't just change the idea behind a perfectly good newspaper and expect everyone to begin reading again! Can you imagine the chaos that would cause? Even if we gained back the customers, we'd lose twice as many by changing the subject. I think it's best that we stick to what we know."

Tyler sighed, but then I heard him straighten out under his cloak. "I have a great idea! " he exclaimed.

"What if we do a year long special? Something to keep the readers involved, to make them buy the next copy?"

"That's a wicked idea! One problem: as interesting as Hogwarts can be at time, there's no subject as intoxicating as you describe."

"Yes there is."

"Not this again."

"Mickey, you have to get that story."

I shove my fingers in my ears as we near the castle. "La la la, can't hear you!" I sing as I undo my glamours, take off my cloak, and shove it into my bag carefully. I notice that Tyler does the same and his hair returns from short blonde to the shaggy blue hair I was accustomed to. His eyes were bright blue once again, and his jaw more pointy. That was all Tyler changed really, since the subjects were never really as interested in my photographer as they were in the mysterious enigma that was Tabitha Sparks.

"You're just mad because you can't find any dirt on him."

I scoff. "As if."

"Admit it!"

"FINE! I'll do the story." One of the most requested topics from the feedback we receive just so happens to be a story about the details of the mysterious James Potter's exceedingly dull life. I mean, no son of Harry Potter can be so ordinary. Well, not entirely ordinary, he's captain of the quidditch team, gets excellent grades, and is a Prefect. But no gossip- none. He has nothing to hide! anything I've printed about him in the past is total dragon dung. I've gone as far as to practically stalk him for a month in fourth year. He goes to class, practice, the library, then his Prefect duties. He's awful.

"We'll publish the first story in about three weeks, then. That's when the edition after this one comes out, correct?" I nod, since there's a week left until this edition comes out, then two weeks until the next. "This'll definitely boost readers! I want a pay raise for this, Mickey!'

Ha, a raise for the torture that will be finding a story on James Sirius Potter in under three weeks? Nice try, Tyler.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, James Potter?" I say hesitantly, my voice raising so that the greeting sounded more like a question. We're in the library, so I'm interupting his study session in hopes of getting an interview.

"Yes, may I help you?" He responds, looking me up and down questioningly. I suppose I would too, I'm dressed up today. As Tabitha, obviously. I have on a navy peplum skirt and blazer, with a whie shirt underneath, nude heels, and a pearl necklace. And of course, my chunky tortoiseshell glasses. Don't question it, they complete the reporter look.

"I'm Tabitha Spa-"

"Yes, I know who you are, Sparks. What do you want?" he cut me off. Wow, straight to the point. I suppose that makes my job easier.

"Alright then. I have a few questions if you would be so helpful as to give me a moment of your time…" I trail off, awaiting his answer.

He rolls his shocking green eyes, saying, "Most definitely not."

"Perfect, so my readers want to- excuse me?"

"What, I can't possibly be the first person who doesn't want to be written about in your idiotic paper, if you could even call it that," he mocks.

"Good Merlin, Potter, I just need answers. Not a lecture on how awful my gossip rag is, because trust me, I know," I sneer.

"Then why bother?"

Eyes flashing with barely concealed frustration and lip curling in annoyance, I say, "Who's the reporter here?"

"I can't even tell, you obviously don't do your job very well."

"I'm a brilliant writer, Potter!" I shout, pointing my wand at him threateningly. He just stands silently, throws me a look of pure malice, collects his books, and walks off. What a git.

I storm through the halls, stopping in the restroom to unglamour myself and charm my clothes into a hoodie and skinny jeans, something much more... Mickey. I throw my cloak over myself as I walk more calmly to the kitchens.

I tickle the pear, step into the kitchens, and haphazardly pull off my invisibility cloak, stuffing it into my leather messenger bag as usual.

"Where'd you get that cloak?" a familiar voice asks curiously.

You have got to be kidding me.

"Not you again," I mutter towards Potter as I grab a bowl of cherries, my favorite fruit, off of the nearby counter and throw myself into the chair across from him.

He stares me down with those unnerving green eyes and asks, "Have we met?"

I freeze. Dragon dung.

"I'm not sure, have we?" I respond sweetly, batting my eyes for good measure.

"I don't think so. I'm James Pott-"

"Yes, I know who you are, Potter." I chuckle at how I throw his own words back at him. I know, I'm hilarious. More politely I add, "I'm Mickey."

"Mickey? Like the mou-"

"If you finish that sentence I swear to Merlin I will chop your balls off."

"How nice. And here I was thinking how nice it was to meet a new pretty face. I've changed my mind," he laughed, smirking slightly.

My jaw dropped. Was he flirting with me, Mickey Freeman? I mean, I'm used to people flirting with Tabitha, she's gorgeous, witty, and pretty much perfect. But me?

"Um.." I say intelligently.

"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies," he whispers, leaning over the table and putting a long finger under my chin and closing it gently. Switching to a normal tone, he repeats, "so where'd you get the cloak?"

Oh. He's flirting to get information... I use that tactic all the time. Normally with a different face, but I suppose I could do the same right now.

"If I tell you, it ruins the mystery, doesn't it?" I say, leaning closer to him and quirking a smile.

His grin wavers so I'm now positive that it's an act. "Well, Mickey, I'm good at figuring out mysteries."

"And creating them," I mumble to myself, thinking of the story I'm supposed to get. Wait!

This is perfect! I can get close to him, then expose his secrets!

"So what house are you in?" He speaks up randomly.

"Ravenclaw," I answer with a prideful grin.

His smile widens. "So you're a genius," he states, hoping to flatter me.

"Actually, I'm not. I'm not even a Prefect."

"No wonder I don't know you. I know id remember someone like you."

"Really now?" I ask with a seductive smile, placing my small hand on his chest. "Then I hope you don't forget me anytime soon."

And I strutted out of the kitchens, bowl of cherries still in hand.

Mickey- 1

Potter- 0

A/N: Hi! This is my first story, so reviews are appreciated!

Disclaimer: It's J.K. Rowling's. Sadly.


	3. Chapter 3

I growl in frustration as I look at the statistics that Lindsay, my other best friend and the only other employee beside Tyler and I for the Insider, hands to me on a hot pink clipboard.

The chart clearly shows the steadily increasing number of people who have cancelled their subscriptions to our paper. A dark blue line rises from the beginning of the year at Hogwarts to the second month we've been here.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" I exclaim.

Lindsay shakes her head, taking the clipboard back and marking something with her matching pink quill.

"You need that story, Mickey!" I hear Tyler say from inside of his cubicle.

Currently we're inside the Hogwarts Insider Headquarters, located behind a portrait just inside of the North Wing. I'm sitting in my office with Lindsay across from me, listening to the bi-weekly report on the status of the Insider. Obviously we're not doing well.

Lindsay sighed sadly, then said, not even glancing up from her report, "He's right. It'll make for a brilliant column. Updates on the mysterious James Potter! Imagine how much sales will increase!

"Fine, I'll do it right now."

I storm out of my personal office into the main room of the headquarters. In this larger room there are two cubicles, a small sitting area, and three doors. One is my office, one is the printing room, and the last is the exit. I hurry to the quidditch pitch, hoping to reach him before he returns to the Gryffindor common room.

I throw on my thick black cloak that I had grabbed from HQ and stepped into the freezing December air, wishing I had been smart enough to bring a hat or scarf with me.

When I reached the pitch, I grinned at my luck. Potter was locking up the quidditch locker rooms.

I stride "aimlessly" towards the stands, taking my time and hopefully attracting the attention of the quidditch captain. When I heard an "OI!" I figure I succeeded.

Whirling around, I come face to chest with Potter. Which is saying something, cause I'm pretty tall. "Oh, hey."

"You're not- wait, it's you!" He said in confusion.

"Me?" I ask innocently.

"Cloak girl."

"Rude boy."

He looked sheepish as he ran a hand through his messy dark brown hair. "I'm sorry, that was rather rude wasn't it?" he said.

"Yes, but that's alright. You're forgiven. Now I'll just be on my way," I say mysteriously, still heading towards the quidditch stands.

"On your way to where, exactly?" he asked, smirking slightly as if he knew I didn't have an answer.

"To, um, the stands. Duh."

"Yes, but why?"

"Um, I like the heights?" I question. "I think better up there!" I say more confidently. Ha, lies.

"You like the heights? Then why don't you fly?"

Oh no.

You see, I have a major fear of heights. An extreme fear of heights. Like I haven't been to a quidditch game before because I'd have to sit up in the stands.

"I don't have a broom!" There, I'm a genius.

"Well come on then," he says, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the broom shed. He extracted a sleek, blue broom that I assumed was the newest model. Mounting it, he motioned for me to join him. I hesitated.

To have to perfect story opportunity and face my biggest fear, or to run now and regret it later?

I climb on behind him shakily, looping my arms around his stomach and clinging to him for dear life.

Squeezing my eyes shut as we take to the air, I hear him say, "You like heights, huh?"

"Yep!" I say in mock cheerfulness, gritting my teeth.

"Then you won't mind if I go a bit higher up?" he teases.

"No!"

"Relax, I'm kidding," James chuckles. "Want to tell me what the alternative was rather than facing your obvious fear of flying and what was so awful about it?"

"Obvious fear?" I question. What's so obvious?

"Your squeezing the air from my lungs."

"Sorry!" I exclaim, cheeks reddening. I release my death grip a bit, but don't open my eyes.

As we fly around, I realize I'm about to do something I never thought I'd do. I'm going to make up a story.

And with that terrifying thought, I reach up and squeeze the locket around my neck.

Disclaimer: It's Jo Rowling's.


	4. Chapter 4

James's Mystery Girl?

Recently spotted flying around the quidditch pitch were Hogwart's own golden boy and a mysterious girl whose identity cannot be confirmed.

It is said that they spent approximately forty five minutes talking and laughing up in the air.

No one knows who this girl is, but she certainly is special if she caught the eye of James Potter.

James Potter-Prefect, Quidditch Captain, and #1 student in the school is well known for his open life and nonexistent secrets. It appears that he's done nothing wrong in his lifetime, but that can't be true, can it?

The next issue will have a follow up story on Potter and his mystery girl, so make sure to subscribe and send in any questions or concerns to the Owl Post Box number below.

Thanks for reading!

Article written by Tabitha Sparks

I shook my head at the offending article. "I can't believe we printed this."

"Oh, come on, Mickey. This is amazing! I mean, the articles short, but the picture makes up for the lack of details," Lindsay gushes, holding her own copy of the Insider.

"I know, I know, I'm pretty amazing," Tyler jokes. But I must agree, the picture makes it look like there's a lot more going on than there actually was. It's a replaying picture of me, my face buried into his shoulder, and him laughing at me.

Well, the readers won't think he's laughing at me, but rather he's laughing because he's oh-so-happy. He's actually laughing because he had just taken an alarming dive and I had shrieked. Myself, embarrassed, put my head on his back in shame, and he had laughed for the duration of the ride, which had lasted quite a while longer than I had anticipated.

"You guys look super cute, by the way."

"Ugh!" I yell, throwing down the paper and exiting Headquarters into the Tapestry Corridor on the first floor. Going to my first class of the week, Potions, I just so happen to run into Potter. Just my luck.

I had been really hoping to avoid him so that no one would make the connection, because then I could say that I tried with the story, it just didn't work out. With a sigh I give my locket a squeeze, signaling Tyler to come take a picture.

"Hey, Mickey!"

"Hello, James," I say with much less enthusiasm. His face falls.

"Are you mad about the article in that stupid newspaper? Because I swear-"

"I'm not mad about the article." I'm mad that you called my newspaper stupid!

"That's good, I was worried for a minute. You look rather murderous," he chuckles. That makes me crack a grin.

"I know, I know, sorry. I just had a friend recognize me as your mystery girl and she completely called me out," I lied easily.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair and sighed. "I'm extremely sorry about that. Tabitha Sparks has been hounding me recently for a story, it's awful. She'll jump at even the smallest of things." And don't you forget it! "Oh no, here's her photographer now. I think I should go... See you around?" He says, tossing me a nonchalant grin.

"Sure. Bye Potter." I sigh and continue on my way towards the dungeon, trying to ignore the stares. Obviously the secret was out, now I just have to figure out how to avoid the attention.

There are multiple reasons that I use the alternate identity of Tabitha Sparks. The first is that I could get into a lot of trouble for the things that I print. Not only is it occasionally slanderous, it's always harsh and cutting. The second reason is that I want a big reveal. I've got it all planned- they'll call my name at graduation, I'll put on the glamour, and when they realize what happened, I'll undo the glamour. Too late to expel me! And the last reason, well, I don't want the attention. It's to hard to go incognito if everyone knows who you are and what you're doing.

When I get to potions I throw my bag onto the desk next to Tyler and say with certainty, "I can't do this."

A/N: Updates will be a bit slower from here on out. Review:)

Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's.


	5. Chapter 5

Well, according to Tyler, I have to follow through with this dumb story since I've already committed. So I'm typing up the newest article on my typewriter, a gift from my father.

Potter's Mystery Girl Revealed

It was recently discovered that James Potter's mystery girl is none other than Mickey Freeman. So who is this strange girl?

Apparently, Mickey and James became friends sometime last month. Mickey is a quiet, straight E student who participates in few extra-curricular activities. Before associating with James she was known only to few in her house, Ravenclaw, and to her best friends Lindsay Matthews and Tyler Creevey, shown above.

Hopefully I can get score an interview with one or both of the aforementioned soonly, to get the scoop on their relationship. Neither have consented to an interview yet, nor any of their close friends. But keep a lookout for the next issue!

By Tabitha Sparks

I've found that it's rather hard to write about myself while pretending not to know anything about the situation.

"Merlin! Look at this!" Lindsay shouts, barging into my office and flailing her clipboard around.

I chuckle at her wild behavior. "I know I'm awesome, Linds, but I'm no Merlin," I joke, taking the clipboard. It's a list of random names, houses, and years.

"It's the new subscribers! Isn't this brilliant? I highlighted the new ones in that hot pink color, and the returning ones in the purplish magenta one. And apparently our greatest target at the moment are fourth through sixth year girls, so you need to have Tyler write a new quidditch article as soon as possible. And I was thinking that for the younger students you could maybe-"

"Slow down! I only heard half of what you said! But yes, this is quite brilliant," I agree.

"I know! Is that article done?" I shake my head yes in confirmation, and she snatches it up and runs out of my office, I'm assuming to her cubicle.

I let out an exhausted sigh and run a hand through my hair, frowning at all of the flyaways that escaped my hair tie. I have so much to do but all I can think about is the Potter issue. I feel really awful about the story, I do, but I'm making seven sickles a copy! And I really need the money if I want to go to a good university. I know that not a lot of witches or wizards attend school post-Hogwarts, but I really want to further my writing skills.

And the cherry on top of all of my problems: I have homework. I thought sixth year would be a break between OWLs and NEWTs, but obviously not. I have three feet to write for Transfiguration, four feet for Charms, at least 20 Arithmancy problems, plus three chapters of reading for Potions. Good thing it's a Friday! And I'm off to the library.

I throw on my Ravenclaw jumper and look both ways before stealthily leaving Headquarters. Lost in thought about all of the work I had to do, I hardly noticed myself running into someone. My bag dropped to the floor and the other person's stack of books went everywhere.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" she squeaked, scrambling to pick up the dropped items.

"It's fine, completely my fault," I reassure her while I crouch down and pick up more of the books and my bag. She was small, I would guess third or fourth year. We stood up and I extended a hand in greeting. "I'm Ta- Mickey."

"Are you positive? You sound rather unsure," she chuckled. "Mickey, that's a cute name. I'm Eloise."

"Equally as cute," I grin, and she rolls her eyes. "Say, are you headed towards the library?"

"I am, actually, I'm meeting my brother there. Care to join us?"

"I'd love to," I say, and we head towards the library. "Out of curiosity, what house and year are you?"

"I'm a fourth year Hufflepuff. You?"

"Sixth year Ravenclaw."

Her face brightened. "My brother is a sixth year too. A Slytherin, though."

I didn't have anything to say to that, but that was alright since we had just entered the library. My sanctuary. My eyes fluttered closed as I inhaled the smell of old parchment and musty books.

"Eloise, it's about time! I was just-" the voice cut off and I spun around towards a table where Eloise had sat, next to a tall boy with light brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. Eloise smirked at his loss of words and my awkward staring.

"Chris, meet Mickey. Mickey, this is my brother, Chris."

"Um, hi." Wow, that was intelligent.

"Hey," he said simply, still looking at me with wide eyes.

"Now that you have said your strangely awkward and forced hellos, I think someone should help me with my potions essay," Eloise stated.

"Oh, um, I'll do it," Chris said, tearing his eyes away from my own.

I smiled slightly and retrieved my Transfiguration essay out of my bag. Grabbing a random quill out of my bag, I started writing a few sentences, using my book as a reference.

"You have nice penmanship," Chris said after a moment, immediately blushing pink at his statement and letting his curly brown hair flop down into his eyes.

I let out a light laugh at his shyness. "Thank you." I went back to writing, and soon enough I had finished all of my work excluding the twenty-some Arithmancy questions. I extracted the homework and cracked open the book, staring blankly at the numbers I was looking at.

After a few minutes, I heard a voice behind me say, "Seventy seven." I spun around to face a smirking Potter. "Seventy seven is the answer you're looking for," he said confidently, sliding in the seat next to me, across from a gaping Eloise and diagonal from an annoyed looking Chris. "See, you forgot to factor in the good fortune. Seventy seven, not seven hundred and four. The good fortune counters the number four."

"Oh." Huh, I'm just full of witty responses today aren't I?

"So how have you been? I tried to talk to you today in History of Magic and then again in Arithmancy but you were out of the room before I could even get out a hello!"

"Well, you see," I was working on an article about you. "Um... I left my quill in my room!"

Everyone at the table fixed their disbelieving gazes on me, even Eloise. Huh. I'm normally a very good liar.

"Are you avoiding me?" James asked, hurt flashing behind his bright hazel eyes. "It's that idiot Sparks's article, isn't it? I'm really sorry about it, Mickey."

"No, it's not that!" I exclaim, earning myself a shush from the aging Madam Pince. "I've just had a bit on my mind."

"Oh, alright," he muttered, then grinned brightly. "Hey, I have an idea! Do you want to-"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think Eloise and I should be going now. It was nice to meet you, Mickey," Chris said, smiling and packing up his books.

"Yeah, bye Mickey! Have fun!" Eloise winked. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Bye!" I say, starting to pack up my own books, swearing internally to finish the Divination homework tomorrow morning. "You were saying, James?"

"Oh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come to the quidditch match tomorrow? It's the first match of the year and it'd mean a lot to me if you'd come."

"Oh, um, heights!" I stutter. He just laughs and gives me the puppy dog eyes. Oh hey now, that's not fair at all. "Fine. I'll see you later, Potter."

"Bye Mickey! See you tomorrow!"


	6. Chapter 6

I'm not a huge fan of Saturdays. Isn't that weird? Everyone loves Saturdays. I'm more of a Sunday type of gal. Saturdays are delivery prep days, the day before we send out the Insider. They're always quite hectic, even if delivery prep is only every other week. On the opposite week we have a major cramming day, writing anything that's needed to fill the paper, and planning for future articles and columns. But if you take a Quidditch match and add that to an already hectic day, you get chaos.

I'm only going because I need to get over my fear of heights. It has nothing to do with James's puppy dog eyes, I swear!

Okay, it may have a teensy bit to do with that.

Lindsay and Tyler were in shock when I told them that I was joining them today, Tyler especially. Tyler writes one page for the Insider: the sports page. Quidditch, muggle football, you name it, he writes about it. I've never shown interest in the game before which is why my sudden interest comes at such a shock to them.

I didn't tell them about James asking me to come, they'd blow it way out of proportion. Besides, I can always just slip down to the locker rooms before the match and say good luck.

I crawl out of my bed and brush out my medium length, dark brown hair, throwing it back into a low messy bun and letting my bangs frame my face. I brush my teeth and put on a long sleeve blouse and my favorite boyfriend jeans along with my gray vans. A beanie on my head and a touch of lip gloss and I was out the door on the way to breakfast.

I slip into my seat on the side facing the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables across from Lindsay and Tyler and spoon a bit of porridge with brown sugar into my bowl.

"Mickey, is there any reason an extremely sexy Slytherin is gazing longingly at the back of your head?" Lindsay asked casually is lieu of a hello.

"A sexy Slytherin?" I spin around only to see a blushing Chris, turning pink from being caught. I giggle and turn back around. "Oh, that's Chris."

"And now there's a midget prodding him and laughing her head off," Tyler added.

I turn around once more to see Eloise in hysterics, clapping Chris on the back. "She's not a midget, Tyler," I patiently explain. "She's a small fourth year. His little sister, Eloise. I don't really know what she's doing at the Slytherin table, she's a Hufflepuff."

"Well she's pretty adorable, but for real girl, you need to get with that!" Lindsay says, flipping her pin straight blond hair over her shoulder and pointing lazily at Chris.

"Come on guys, we're going to be late for the match!" Tyler says, grabbing Lindsay by the arm and motioning for me to follow them out the door.

When we near the quidditch pitch I quickly lie and say, "Oh darn, I need to go use the restroom before we go all the way up there. Save me a seat?" They nod and scurry off.

Instead of walking back towards the castle though, I sneak off towards the quidditch locker rooms. I knock on the door lightly and almost immediately it swings open to reveal a gangly, freckle covered redhead.

"Oi! James! It's your mystery girl!" He shouts, grinning. I can feel my face burning as James hurries over to the doorway, shoving the redhead back inside the door and slamming it.

"Hey," he breathes out. "You actually came!"

"I keep my word," I laugh. "I just came by to wish you luck, since I missed my chance to at breakfast."

"Oh, thanks," he says. We stand in awkward silence for a moment, him rocking on the balls of his feet and myself shivering slightly from the chilly October weather. "Are you cold?"

"A bit," I admit.

"I'll be right back," he tells me, opening to door, but not being able to go through. There were six teenagers that were all leaning against the door obviously eavesdropping that fell through when the door randomly opened. I stifled a laugh when James groaned. "You guys are so embarrassing," he says to them in exasperation, stepping over them as the scramble to go back inside, and for the first time I notice their similarities to him. Obviously the Weasleys. Funny I didn't recognize them right away, I've written many articles on them.

James returned a half a minute later with a crimson sweater in his arms. He sheepishly handed it over and I gratefully put it on, only turning slightly pink.

"Thanks," I squeak.

He looks rather proud as he glances at my small form drowning in the red fabric of the Gryffindor sweater. "Now you won't be confused as to who to cheer for."

I raise my eyebrows and ask, "Why would I be confused?"

"I thought you might be inclined to cheer for Chris Ferguson."

"Chris plays quidditch?" That's news. He seemed more of the reserved, studious type.

"He's keeper, sweetheart," he says, smirking.

"Don't call me that," I mutter, getting even redder. "And what position do you play?"

James gapes at me. "You don't even know what position I play?"

"No, I don't know much about quidditch," I explain, giggling at his reaction. "I know that my family members are Harpies fans, however."

"My mum played for the Harpies," he brags.

"Yes, I know. Now she works for the Prophet."

"So you knew that but not that I play chaser?" James says, completely aghast. I just nod.

The door opens again revealing the quidditch team. The gangly redhead, Fred, I think, tosses James his blue broom and says, "Alright, lovebirds, break it up. We have a match to win."

Gosh, is it make Mickey blush day or what?

"Alright, I'm going to go. Good luck, James," I say, and before I can even register what I'm doing, I've already given him a peck on the cheek. Now we're both red, and the team is snickering. "Bye!" I repeat in a much higher pitch, and I hurry off the stands.

When I get there, I'm practically hyperventilating. The last time I was in the air I had someone to cling to, at least. Someone that smells like heaven, I think to myself, breathing deeply the scent of cinnamon and a musky pine-like scent and almost instantly calming down. I find Tyler's blue hair in the crowd and make my way over to the pair, taking the seat right in between them.

My two best friends just gape at me for a minute.

"Wha-" Oh. The hoodie. "I can explain, honestly!"

Tyler starts laughing hysterically at this, "Really now? Can you explain the blush on your face right now?"

"Oh forget it, you guys wouldn't listen to me anyway."

"Whatever, Mickey. The match is starting, shh!"

I roll my eyes at that, since everyone around us starts cheering wildly. We were seated in the midst of the Ravenclaws, since the Ravenclaws were pretty divided as to which team they were rooting for. This way we could safely support the team of our choice. Tyler's is Gryffindor, and Lindsay's is Slytherin since she's a Slytherin herself. Mine… I'm not quite sure. I think I'll just cheer for my two quidditch playing friends individually, rather than choose a team. Even if I am in a Gryffindor hoodie.

I mentally prepare myself for the game, and whisper to Tyler that he may have to explain to me the basics of Quidditch. I clap loudly for both teams as they soar onto the field, and even more loudly when the game begins. I mean, I have no idea what's going on, but that's okay, right?

Right, don't answer that.

A/N: Hey, sorry, I forgot the author's note on the last chapter. And the disclaimer. So yeah, (DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER BELONGS TO JOANNE ROWLING, KAY?). Haha so please tell me how you like the story so far, it would mean a lot to me. And thanks to my first reviewer;)


	7. Chapter 7

The Gryffindor team won. I wasn't surprised. The fiery little redhead known as Lily Potter caught the snitch in under an hour. After the game, we made our way onto the field since I wanted to congratulate James and offer my condolences to Chris and his team.

When we reached the ground I wasn't surprised to see that the Gryffindor team was completely surrounded, so I decided to leave that for another day. When we got to where the Slytherin team had been, we were disappointed to see that it had been replaced by a crowd of mopey Slytherins. The team had probably decided to sneak off to the locker rooms. I did, however, spot Eloise.

"Hey, Mickey," she said solemnly.

"Hey, Eloise. Tough loss?" I asked. Lindsay and Tyler snorted, since I obviously had no clue as to if it was a tough loss or not.

"Yeah, I suppose," Eloise answered. I frowned at her sadness, since since she was so bubbly the day before. Suddenly an idea came to me.

"You know what would cheer you up?" I ask, motioning Lindsay forward. "A girls day!"

She giggled as Lindsay gave me a look. "Hate to burst your bubble, Mickey, but you haven't even properly introduced me to this kid and you want me to hang out with you two?" she said, then added as a side note, "no offense, midget."

"She's not a midget, Lindsay. She's a small fourth year. Don't you know a thing?" Tyler asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm right here you know," Eloise spoke up. "And I wouldn't want to hang out with a Slytherin who thinks that I'm just a lowly Hufflepuff anyway."

"Ooh," Tyler muttered, raising his eyebrows at the staredown between Lindsay and Eloise.

Finally Lindsay couldn't contain it any longer and burst into laughter. "Oh Merlin," she said in between fits of giggles, "You actually… Thought I was… One of those… Slytherins!"

"You… You're not?" Eloise faltered.

I suppose I'd be confused too, Lindsay sure looks the part of 'snobby blood purist'. Shes got long, straight dirty-blonde hair and brown eyes that manage to give you the iciest glares despite the warmth of their color. She's tall and slim, with the body of a model, and she'd surely have boys falling at her feet if not for her spunky attitude. Okay fine, spunky is an understatement. Crazy, controlling, overbearing, perky, obnoxious… Yeah, those are way better adjectives to describe Lindsay.

"Definitely not," I reassure the little Hufflepuff. "This jerk just likes to mess with any potential friends I might make. If she scares them off then they're not good enough to be in her presence. If they aren't bothered by her attitude, they get to stick around a while."

"Oh, um, who else has survived that?" Eloise asked cautiously, staring at the three of us who were still occasionally breaking down into fits of giggles.

"Just Tyler here in the middle of first year!" Lindsay chuckles.

"Wow, don't I feel special then!" she jokes, puffing out her chest and grinning like a mad woman.

"You should. Now come on, we're going to read dumb tabloids and magazines and paint our nails funky colors," Lindsay demands. "Tyler, get lost."

Eloise grins, "How about I meet you, I have to go tell my brother something. Where are we going to?"

"The fifth floor, the far west corridor. There's a small wooden door with an eagle etched into the handle, open that and go up the stairs until you reach a bronze eagle-shaped knocker. It'll ask you some weird question, but don't worry, I can let you in in say… forty five minutes," I tell her.

"That sounds perfect. See you there!" she says, sauntering off towards the locker rooms.

"I like her," Lindsay says. Tyler rolls his eyes and walks off towards the Gryffindor team. I link arms with Lindsay and we head back to the Ravenclaw tower.

"So little Eloise is pretty adorable. You have good taste in midgets," she tells me.

"I know, she's hilairious. I'm surprised she's in Hufflepuff and not in, say, Gryffindor."

"I'm surprised that her hunky brother is a Slytherin and I don't know him."

I laugh at that and say, "I'm not. He seems shy. But since he's on the quidditch team you'd think you'd know him."

"Totally. He's probably new. What did you say his name was?"

"It's Chris Ferguson, or at least that's what James says."

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. "James said that eh? You two seem to be getting close. Are you getting a good story?"

"Oh, the story," I say. I had actually forgotten about it. Shocking, right? Me, Tabitha Sparks, forgetting about her main story? I really need to get out there and do some digging before I forget what it's even about! "Well, I guess I'll just keep writing about his mystery girl."

"Don't talk about yourself in third person, Mickey," she said, sending us in hysterics.

When we made it to the commonroom entrance, the eagle asked, "What is greater than God, more evil than the devil, the poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it, you'll die?"

Lindsay looked to me and I have her a dirty look. "What? I'm a Slytherin. I could probably bribe it, or blackmail it, if you want," she chuckled, mocking the stereotype of her house as she loves to do.

"Nothing," I say to the knocker.

"Correct," it replies, swinging open to reveal the Ravenclaw commonroom.

The Ravenclaw commonroom is an interesting place. Often people find it hard to look past the know-it-alls of our house and see that many of us are more creatively brilliant than we are basically intelligent. There's an entire section of the oval shaped room that's a large window, with easels lined up that look out towards the forbidden forest. There's a soundproof glass room where the musicians practice whatever instrument they please. Also, there's a winding staircase that leads to a balcony filled with telescopes for the stargazers of Ravenclaw. Now imagine that creative haven filled with books along the shelf-covered walls, in every book or cranny, and along every surface. That's what Ravenclaw Tower is like.

You can see why Lindsay and I prefer the tower to the murky dungeons of Slytherin.

One thing that the creative commonroom lacks is something for the writers. Every now and then some poets have a reading that I occasionally sit in on. But I'm a journalist. Oh well.

"Come on, Lindsay," I say to the Slytherin who stops to gaze around the tower in awe like she does every single time we enter.

"I'm coming, don't get your panties in a twist." We walk over to the elevator and enter after a moment of waiting for it to arrive. "Sixth year, girls," Lindsay says for me.

We lurch upward, then slightly to the left, which throws Lindsay into the right wall. I stifle a giggle as she peels herself off of the bronze wall.

When we reach the dorm, I sigh in relief and throw myself onto my bed. The arrangement of the dorm is great. Each bed is stuck inside of a little nook that sticks out from the tower. There's a bookshelf and desk on one side of each nook and a desk on the other that separates them.

Lindsay seats herself in the desk chair and begins spinning around, humming.

"Eloise doesn't seem like a Hufflepuff, does she?" I ask.

"Definitely not your typical Puff," Lindsay agrees, fishing my small chest of nail polish out of one of the desk drawers and applying a coat of deep purple.

"Talking about me?" Eloise asks, appearing out of nowhere.

"How'd you get in?" Lindsay asked in alarm.

"I just answered that little eagle and asked for directions to the dorm, silly," she chuckled. "Even as you agree that I'm not a normal Hufflepuff, by your standards that is, you still underestimate me."

Lindsay looked offended. "By my standards?"

"Yes. Even after you said you're not one of those Slytherins, you misjudge Hufflepuff's based on our stereotype. We're not daft."

"Some of you are," I giggle.

Eloise nods in agreement but says, "Duh. But try and tell me there aren't idiots in the other houses."

"Point!" Lindsay laughs, waving a purple polished finger in the air.

Eloise selects a bright turquoise, sits down on the floor and starts painting her toes. "I don't understand where that stereotype came from anyway."

"You're the "reject house". No offense intended," I tell her.

"What, that? We take those who don't fit in? Ha!" she laughs at that idea. "Who's to say we don't take those who are intelligent and cunning? Or brave and sly? Or smart and courageous?"

I stared in amazement at the tiny brunette. I've never thought of it like that.

"You're saying you take those who may be too brilliant to be restricted to one house?"

"I'm saying exactly that," she says, screwing the cap back on the bottle of polish.

I catch Lindsay's attention and mouth the words 'next issue!' She nods in agreement.

Looking up to Eloise's questioning gaze, I try to play it off and shrug my shoulders.

"Tell me," she demands. Crap, I'm not getting out of this. Come up with something that's a lie but not a lie at all, quick!

"You see, Eloise, it's a huge secret, but I'm willing to let you in on it," I say. Her eyes widen and she leans forward slightly in anticipation of learning my secret. "I'm close friends with Tabitha Sparks. I think the house stereotypes are a brilliant story idea and I might want to tell her about it."

"The Tabitha Sparks? Of the Hogwarts Insider?" she asks in wonder.

"Yep," I say confidently.

She narrows her eyes at me. "So does that mystery girl in the latest article look like you?" I freeze.

"It's complicated," Lindsay says, noticing my mistake and saving my butt. "Mickey's in a bit of trouble with Tabitha. In debt." Wow, she sure has no qualms about lying to our new friend.

"Huh," Eloise says, clearly noticing our suspicious behavior. Thankfully she lets it go.

The rest of the day consists of typical girly things like makeovers, hair braiding, and magazines. Eloise is amazing, and I'm really glad to make such a good new friend, even if she's a bit younger. Plus her brother is hot, so that's a plus. After my two friends leave, I'm left to ponder the Insider, my alternate identity, and my new friendship with both Eloise and Chris. And of course, Potter.

A/N: Hey, sorry it's been so long. I wrote an extra long chapter to make up for it:) Special thanks to the two people who followed my story! Okay, that sounded rather pathetic, but I do mean it. I'm working on the next chapter right now. So what do you guys think of Chris and Eloise? Both are going to become rather important to the plot. And I know there wasn't much James/Mickey action in this chapter. Do you want to see more or less of it? Can you tell I'm trying to get you to review? Haha, okay, I'll go now. Xoxo, Van Gogh!


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